Will They, Nil They
by musicnotes093
Summary: Sequel to "Promise?" Two years have passed after Tim and Ziva concluded a promise, and their unchanged situations lead them to fulfill the agreement. In the six months they spend with each other to arrange the wedding, how will things change? McGiva ?
1. Prologue

**Title: **_"Will They, Nil They"_

**Rating: **FR13 / T

**Genre: **Drama, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Romance

**Pairing(s): **McGiva, baby!

**Summary: **_Sequel to "Promise?" _Two years have passed after Tim and Ziva concluded a promise, and their unchanged situations lead them to fulfill the agreement. In the six months they spend with each other to arrange the wedding, how will things change? And what happens when disapproving in-laws unintentionally get involved in the secret marriage?

**Notes: **So long due. :P Supposedly titled as "In-Laws and In-Laws," but it didn't catch on for me. Title adapted from a line in Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew": _'And will you, nil you, I will marry you.'_

Enjoy, guys!

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"McGee! He's heading your way!"

_Dried leaves rustled and spun aloft in the air as fast feet dashed along the trail. The obscurity of the forest, while intimidating to the others running after the target, did not faze the agent. Gaining more speed, she swerved past the fallen debris and the vines that were as good as trip wires. Not long after, the suspect, obviously running out of strength and breath, stood out. _

_ A smirk formed on sly lips. There's no escape for him now._

"Oh. Please not now."

"McGee, stop fooling around!"

"I'm not fooling around! My sig's…caught in the…holster."

"David! McGee!"

Ziva hesitated to help him for a moment. Then, she turned around, but before she could even try to lend a hand she spotted their target heading towards her partner. "Tim, look out!"

_Before the unexpected accomplice could make his move, the man's jaws gave a stiff crack as a hard boot collided with his face. He fell to the ground, knocked out. _

It didn't take long until the two senior agents came to their aid. However, by then, the person they were after was already lying immobile on the ground.

"You didn't hurt him much, did you, Ziva?"

"It was not me."

"No. You did this, Probie?"

He shrugged, still awash in disbelief.

"What happens to him now?"

_"Don't worry. I got him," her partner said, dragging her target out of the clump of trees. _

_ "You really thought you can run away from us?" she asked._

_ "Didn't know an old lady like you can catch me," the suspect breathed heavily. _

_ "Who you calling old, Skippy?"_

_ "McGee. That's enough," her partner said, and then turned to the man she held. "As for you, you're coming back to America."_

_ "Oh, will I? I thought you CIA make sure your business are wiped clean before you come back home."_

_ "We do. That's why we're going to make sure we transport you back to where you come from. No prolonging your case with extradition, you know? And we're sure the courts would love to put you in jail, you scum." _

_ The man's lips curled into a snarl. Soon, he and his unconscious accomplice were taken away by two other members of the team. _

_ "So. It must feel good to know you still got it, huh?"_

_ "Yeah. I guess."_

_ "Are you staying to see that guy get locked up?"_

_ "No. I told Matthew I was going away for a week to visit a cousin. If I go AWOL for another week, he'd figure I'm on another assignment."_

_ "Ah."_

_ "Plus, I want to come home right away. My kids are coming to visit in a few weeks, and I want everything prepared for them. Especially for my son."_

_ "Hm. I see you still treat him like a little boy."_

_ "You have a kid, Vivian. I'm sure you understand."_

_ Vivian laughed almost deridingly. "Not exactly," she said, walking away. _

_ She shook her head slightly. Of course she didn't. Vivian's daughter, Kayla, was not like her son. Her boy was smart, independent, could stand on his own feet. Not that Kayla wasn't. It's just that in her eyes, he was a great person. People have told her that she babied him too much, but she disagreed. He was growing up way too fast, and soon he'd have a family of his own. _

_ Well, she hoped he would. If he just lived a little and stop locking himself up in his apartment every night to play video games, he would find himself a wife. Then maybe he could give her grandchildren to take care of. _

'Mom. Maybe there's just no one for me out there,' _the voice of her son rang from the back of her mind. It made her sad every time she heard it from him. He was a good looking man. He was responsible, respectful, and loyal. He's what every women want! Yet, somehow, he didn't think much of himself. _

_ When an idea hit her, she grinned. Maybe she could arrange something-or, rather, _someone_-to change his mind. _

_ "Elizabeth! What are you doing there? Come on!"_

_ Her head adrift in the clouds, she followed her team to the van. She didn't notice Vivian walk alongside her, regarding her with a bewildered frown. _

_ "Girl, what is wrong with you?"_

_ "I have an idea, Vivian. I know how to find my son a wife!"_

_ Vivian stared at her for a while. "I don't even want to know," she said. "Goodness help you when your mother comes home, Timothy McGee," she added under her breath before coming in their vehicle. _

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><p><em><strong>Italics <strong>_**are Elizabeth's "scenes," and Normal are Tim's. :)**

**Reviews are loved! ^_^  
><strong>


	2. Chapter One

**_Author's Note: I do ask for your patience, guys, because updates for this WIP will come slowly. :P _**

**_Anyways, I want to thank the following for leaving comments last chapter! Sophie Ranier, CSI-GSR-BILLY-LOVER, Dreamer22, BlueSkyeCloud9, and Gottahavemyncis. _**

**_Enjoy, you guys! ^_^_**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Tim gently tapped his fingers on the counter with the beat of the slow music enveloping the pub. He did so involuntarily as his mind was somewhere else. The empty pages of the notebook lying idly in front of him stared at him with impatience, and he couldn't help himself from feeling obligated to feed it the words it wanted.

Although, despite his attempt to come up with even just a few, he had nothing.

He sipped a little wine to warm his senses. He sighed. What was he thinking? It did not matter whether he was in his apartment or downtown. Expecting to come up with the beginning of a new novel Lyndi asked—_demanded_—him to write was asking too much.

Frustrated and resigned, Tim just stared back at the clean sheet of paper outstretched in front of him.

"Alone again?"

Tim slightly swiveled his head to the right. He needed not see her face to recognize her. He smiled, turning back to his writing utensil and glass of wine. "Unfortunately," he said. "What are you doing here at this time of day, Ziva?"

Ziva shrugged as she heaved herself up to the empty chair beside him. "The same reason you have of being here," she answered, smirking.

"I beg to differ," Tim scoffed.

"Oh?" Ziva's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Well, why are you here?"

"Lyndi called earlier," Tim explained. "She wants the first chapter of my new story on her desk by Friday. She said that it should be mind-blowing enough to cost her her time and patience." He glanced at Ziva and found her waiting for him to continue. A brooding expression overwhelmed his features then. "The only mind-blowing thought I have right now is that it's Monday tomorrow, and we have tons of paperwork for that Sheffield case," he groaned, defeated.

Ziva laughed lightly. Not because she was deriding him, but because she thought the scenario in front of her was cute. "Writer's block, yes?" she nodded at his glass of wine.

"Sadly," Tim answered. Deciding that self-pity would get him nowhere, he thought that he might as well enjoy the company he had. He turned his attention to Ziva, who, he thought, looked rather nice. She wore a simple pair of jeans and a white top that fitted her perfectly. Her hair was neatly tied into a ponytail, accentuating her beautiful features. He smiled. "Are you supposed to be meeting a date here tonight?" he asked.

Ziva shook her head. "No," she replied. "I just had to get out of my apartment because it was getting lonely."

"You called anyone to hang out with?"

"Abby, at first," she replied, sounding rather disappointed, "but she said she already made arrangements with her friends who are coming from out of town. She invited me to come, but I did not want to impose, so."

Tim creased his eyebrows. "Tony?"

"Out of town," Ziva replied. "Remember? He is going on a fishing trip with his father this weekend. Gibbs and Vance already gave him leave, so he would not be back until tomorrow afternoon."

_Great_, he thought snidely. _More paperwork for us._"You could have called me," he offered belatedly.

"You mentioned to Tony last Friday that you will be busy this weekend," Ziva half-smiled. "I did not want to bother you."

Tim chuckled. "Trust me," he said, and then rested a hand on his notebook. "Between this and you, you are not a bother at all."

Ziva laughed a little. She said nothing else. Instead, she gazed around.

The pub was mostly peaceful. The dim, yellow lights stationed at all of the tables that surrounded the bar added to the soberness of the place. A few waitresses were making their rounds on newly occupied tables, while a busboy sluggishly wiped an empty table clean on a far corner. The customers were mostly sitting by themselves. There were only a handful of people who were in groups. The ones sitting alone appeared distant and consumed by their own worries. Those who were with company appeared rather cheerful despite the heavy melancholy weighing down on the place.

She smiled. Good thing she was with someone.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Tim asked, his voice cutting through her thoughts.

"No," Ziva replied, turning towards him. "Thank you."

"You sure? My treat," Tim insisted politely.

Ziva shook her head, her smile widening. Tim mumbled a respectful "Okay," and then sipped some more wine. She resumed her watch of the patrons. A man walking out of the bar caught her eye. She observed him until he got outside.

"Like him?" Tim asked. He bit his lips later when he realized how nosy it made him seem. Ziva swiveled her head to his direction, a mildly inquisitive expression on her face. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Just trying to make conversation."

Ziva tilted her head slightly. "Not really," she answered. "He looks charming. That is it. It was just an observation," she said. She faced the counter in front of her, and then rested her crossed forearms upon it. "I have not been too interested in men lately," she admitted, thinking nothing of it.

Tim's brows wrinkled at the revelation. Then, he raised them.

Ziva saw his expression then laughed. "That is not what I mean," she said.

"Oh. Good," Tim said, his expression softening.

"It's just that…" Ziva trailed off for a moment. Tim regarded her with concern. "I am not too interested for now, I guess."

Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Tim understood. "You're still thinking of him," he said, replacing his stare to the rack of beverage ahead of him so as not to embarrass her.

"I really should not be," Ziva said. "It has been a year since he left me that empty box."

"He will be back soon," Tim consoled.

"No, he would not," Ziva replied rather defensively. "I told him five months ago that I cannot wait any longer."

Tim said nothing. He knew what she meant, and he felt sorry.

Ziva took the glass of wine from him and then consumed all of the contents. The action had her throat lightly ablaze and her senses awakened. "I am doomed to be alone," she said to no one in particular.

Carefully, Tim took his glass back from her, though he was a bit bewildered. "You and I the same," he admitted almost bitterly.

Ziva smirked. "You are just saying that so I would not feel alone," she said.

Tim smiled. "I said it because I meant it," he said. When the short exchange registered in his brain, he frowned slightly. For some reason, he felt like they had the same conversation before, at the same place and almost the same time.

_It's funny, isn't it?_

_What's funny?_

_That some people always end up alone even after all of the things they do not to be._

Imagination. That was it. It was just imagination, he thought. However, he could not shake the doubt that it was not, and there was something important in the conversation that was yet left to be rediscovered.

"Tim?" Ziva said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Tim said, convincing himself it was so. "Yeah. I just remembered something weird."

"Really?" Ziva asked, averting his gaze for some reason. Her posture was notably more frozen, only a bit, than earlier. She made no mention that their last exchange reminded her of something as well. "What is it?" she pressed on.

"Nothing," Tim shook his head, smiling. "Just a conversation we had some time back."

"What about?"

_When I was younger, I always dreamed of having a family of my own one day. You know, a decent house, a husband, a child or two? I guess I still want that. Did you ever think about having your own family, too, McGee? he remembered Ziva asking him._

_Yes. I do want to get married some day and have my family, too, he recalled answering._

"Having our own family," Tim answered, and then quickly retracted his statement when he thought how she could misconstrue it. "I mean, you and I. Having our own families."

Ziva smirked. "It is a nice idea," she said, relieving Tim from the agony of having to explain himself needlessly. "It is what you and I wanted, yes?"

"Yes," Tim answered, failing to notice that she shared the same memory he had in his mind at the moment. "And as you said, we're not getting younger any—" He turned towards her when he realized that she knew.

Ziva glanced at him sideways, smiling slyly.

"You remembered?"

"I did," Ziva answered, interested.

"And the promise?"

Ziva nodded.

Tim leaned back on his chair, exhausting the breath he had been holding. It was quite a deal they made. He still found it good, but he felt awkward when he thought of what Ziva might be thinking. She probably thought it was inane, something that they agreed on in the heat of the moment.

... ... ...

Elizabeth sat on the bed as she reread the letter Sofya, Tim's childhood friend, sent to her. She couldn't help but smile again when she got to the part where the young woman said that she wanted to see Tim again. _It's been a while. Timmy-T and I call each other a few times a year, but I still think it's better if I see him in person. Plus, it's getting boring here in Germany. I owe America a visit, _Sofya wrote.

Elizabeth was delighted when she first learned about it. She had always found Sofya a wonderful girl, even when she and Tim were little. She was beautiful, smart, and nice—the exact compliment of her son. Everyone predicted that the two would probably end up marrying each other one day, but the Muller's had to move to Germany to take care of the estates left to Sofya's mother by her grandfather.

It was heartbreaking to watch Tim and Sofya part. Their tears made the departure harder than it already was.

Elizabeth folded the letter, and then tucked it back inside the envelope. It did not matter anymore. At least they'd be back together again.

The floorboard outside the room creaked slightly as Matthew walked inside the room, drying his hair. He listlessly hung the damp towel on one of the hooks in their closet, and then he proceeded towards their bed. As he sat down, he noticed his wife watching him with a small, goofy grin. "What?" he asked, smiling.

"Nothing," Elizabeth said. "I just received good news."

"They're airing reruns of 'The Young and the Restless'?" Matthew asked jokingly after lying down.

Elizabeth hit him with the envelope in her hand, chuckling as she did so. "That's not funny," she said. Matthew laughed. She grinned. "No," she corrected him. "I just received this letter from Sofya. Do you remember her? She's the Muller's only kid."

"Oh, yeah," Matthew answered pensively. "They used to live next to us when we were in Virginia Beach, right?"

"Yeah. She sent me a letter, and guess what?" Elizabeth asked quite excitedly. "She's coming to visit!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"That's great," Matthew said, cheerfully though languidly.

"I'm sure Tim will be delighted to see her," Elizabeth said, leaning back on the headboard. "It's been years." Matthew nodded in agreement. "I hope you don't mind, honey, but I invited her to stay with us while she's here. I can ask Sarah to help me clean the guest house. It's spacious enough for Sofya, I hope."

"That sounds good, darling," Matthew mumbled, his eyes closed.

Elizabeth sighed in contentment. "You know, I have a good feeling about this," she said to no one in particular. She knew that her husband was inching closer to sleep, but she did not mind. "Tim and Sofya were friends—_sweethearts_, actually, before the Muller's left. I wish things would go as great as than before," she continued. "Who knows? Our Tim might be married by spring next year."

Matthew, after hearing her last statement, groaned.

Elizabeth frowned and shot a look to him. "What?" she asked.

Matthew opened his eyes. "Can you stop pimping our son?" he asked, slightly irritated.

"I'm not pimping him, Matthew," Elizabeth defended herself. "I just want him to find a good woman and have a good family."

"He will. Just give him time," Matthew said reasonably as he sat up.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Oh, like I have that," she said. "We're getting old, Matthew! I want to at least have the chance to take some grandchildren to Disneyland. The rate that he's going, the only ride his kids can go to with grandma is her wheelchair!"

"So any girl will do?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Elizabeth chastised. "Sofya's not just _any_ girl. She's_ the_girl."

"Right," Matthew raised an eyebrow. "So were Angeline, Holly, Ruby, Abby, and Maxine." Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but he was quick to hold up his hands to further explain. "Don't get me wrong. They're good girls, but Timothy just ended up brokenhearted after his relationship with each of them."

"Well, Holly…"

"I know," Matthew nodded when he remembered. "She practically hooked up with every boy in town, so we kinda saw it coming."

Elizabeth paused for a while before she spoke again. "But Sofya's different," she reasoned again, but calmer this time. "She grew up with Tim, and we know how she is. For the few months Tim was with her, he was happy, and you saw how."

Matthew nodded in agreement. "I guess you're right," he said, and then lied back to the bed.

Elizabeth kept her silence as she pondered over their conversation. Actually, all she wanted was to leave her son happy. She hated seeing him alone, doing nothing but tasks he would do again the next day. She wanted him to enjoy life, and it seemed to her that the best way that would happen was if he wedded a good woman. "You know," she spoke again as she thought of something, "beside Holly, there_ is_one girl I do not want Tim to marry. Even if she's the last person on earth."

"And that is…?" Matthew asked, his interest piqued.

"His co-worker," Elizabeth said distastefully. "Ziva David."

"Oh? Why not? She's Tim's best friend," Matthew smiled. "They get along very well."

"They do, but…I just don't think she's good enough."

"Elizabeth. The girl was an ex-Mossad Assassin, she speaks five language fluently, she's pleasant, and she's gorgeous. She's one of the best packages out there," Matthew argued.

"That's the thing," Elizabeth said. "She got it, and I don't think she's the type to save all of_ it_for her husband."

"You're judgmental," Matthew stated.

"I'm just saying," Elizabeth nonchalantly hitched a shoulder.

"Well, she's basically like Sofya," Matthew refuted. "If, and this is just an _if_so don't get upset with me…If Tim doesn't find Sofya wife material, Ziva's the next best shot we have."

Elizabeth crossed her arms audaciously. "Over my dead body," she said.

Matthew shook his head in resign. Goodness help them if Tim and Ziva did end up being together.

**… … …**

Tim felt slightly embarrassed. He had a few drinks that night they promised they would marry each other. Of course Ziva did not take him seriously. Why should she? "It was crazy, huh?" he asked, humoring himself.

"I thought it was a wonderful agreement between two friends," Ziva answered, the smile on her face barely visible. She felt somewhat offended by what he said but chose not to say anything.

Tim frowned deeply as he tried to understand her reaction. He shut his eyes, and then shook his head. "Ziva, do you understand what that deal means?" he asked her. "If we decided to actually do it?"

Ziva faced him almost challengingly.

"We will be married," Tim explained to her. Ziva looked at him as if he only told her that it was Sunday. "We'll be husband and wife," he tried again. "You will be Mrs. Timothy McGee."

"Tim, I am fully aware of that," Ziva pointed out.

"Ziva, I have nothing to offer you," Tim added.

"I like your company the best," Ziva said, smiling. Tim looked at her. It warmed her heart when he smiled appreciatively. "I am tired of being alone. If we get married, at least I have a friend like you with me," she said. "Are you not tired of being alone, too?"

"Well," Tim said, scrambling for more reasons to give to Ziva. It was not like he didn't like the idea; it was just that he thought of how life would be like for her with him. Compared to what other better men could give her, his offer was less than sterling. "I am—"

"So?"

Tim hesitated. "Okay," he finally agreed. He stared in her eyes timidly, a little confused on what he should do next. "Now what?" he asked.

Ziva shrugged, bemused by the new fact that both of them made. "I guess we are engaged," she said.

Tim scratched his head. "Shouldn't I get you a ring?" he asked.

"You do not have to if you do not want to," Ziva said.

Tim got out of his chair. "I have to," he mumbled while looking around for anything that had a semblance to a ring. _This is my first time proposing. There should be a ring,_he added inwardly. He found none on their surroundings.

Ziva, all the while, watched him search with a delighted curiosity.

Tim started searching his jean pocket. Then, he touched his car keys. He took it out then examined it. "This will work," he muttered, sliding the key and key chain out of the slender metallic ring. After placing the other two back to where they were, he faced Ziva again. "I-I got the ring," he said, suddenly feeling nervous.

Ziva tried her best not to chuckle.

Tim asked for her hand. Ziva obliged, smiling as she did so. "So, um, will you marry me, Ziva?" he asked, his heart beating madly in his chest.

"Yes," Ziva answered, smiling.

Tim slid the key ring to Ziva's finger. Afterwards, Ziva took back her hand and admired the piece of metallic wire he gave her. Tim scratched his head, still trying to adjust to the idea that he just proposed seconds ago and was now engaged. "I will get you a better one," he said. "I promise."

Ziva waved a hand at him. "Do not worry about it," she said.

"I should," Tim said, looking pensively at the ring. "That really does not look like a symbol of love."

Ziva shrugged, reserving to herself how she was contented with it. "Well," she said, lifting her eyes up at him, "what does love got to do with it?"

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><p><strong>Reviews = Love! :D<strong>


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